


He Has Your Smile

by Devereauxs_Disease



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Hannibal and Will are in their honeymoon phase, Hannibal...does not do well with that info, I mean...a little..., Is the honeymoon over?, M/M, Molly just wants to be left alone, Post Fall, Will just wants Hannibal, everything is right with the world, except whoops - turns out Molly was pregnant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:26:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27014980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devereauxs_Disease/pseuds/Devereauxs_Disease
Summary: Will and Hannibal are tucked away in a beach house in Uruguay, disgustingly happy and in love. But when a TattleCrime headline reveals that Molly Graham fought the dragon and lived while pregnant...that peace is shattered. Can Will keep Hannibal from doing something rash? Or is he about to lose another spouse?
Relationships: Molly Graham/Will Graham, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 187
Kudos: 411





	1. The Honeymoon Phase

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, your harried author is behind on comments and trying to catch up. Please be patient, if you leave a comment I love you and I'll respond when I can. Thank you so much for being wonderful readers. 
> 
> As always, my undying love goes to Gwilbers for catching all my errors.

Will never woke screaming anymore. Mornings were lazy affairs, with his brain registering daylight or movement as it slowly brought the rest of him online. He couldn’t remember the last time a killer chased him through the dark corners of his mind, or he woke burning in his own brain.

Now, he woke seeking warmth, nuzzling into the body in his arms, kissing the Verger brand before trailing his mouth up, searching for the soft spot behind Hannibal’s ear. Will nosed into it, brushing aside grey hair that had grown longer, nearly back to its old length before Alana insisted on biweekly haircuts. They slept naked most nights, unwilling to leave any barrier between them anymore.

Will didn’t complain — hell, he’d started it, two months ago after their wounds had healed and he couldn’t ignore the pull he felt to Hannibal’s body. Sex had never been something Will needed, it was a nice release, a perfunctory action to keep his body running on something other than stress. But with Hannibal, he craved it. Even before the fall, there was a pulling in the back of his teeth when he saw Hannibal, saliva pooling and jaws aching to bite. The feeling had only grown since they emerged from the water, broken, but conjoined. He would watch Hannibal tend his wounds, splint his own leg, and hobble through cooking meals, thinking of how his fingers itched to grab the doctor’s hair and press him to the counter.

He let the feeling simmer for a few weeks, until Hannibal proclaimed them healthy. Will had toasted their health, then toasted again, and when he was more whiskey than sense, he stumbled into a sloppy kiss with Hannibal. The doctor had turned him away telling him _come to me sober or you won’t come at all_. Will had woken up fuzzy-headed and embarrassed, but he crawled into Hannibal’s bed the next morning and hadn’t left since.

It was the best decision he had made since the choice to resume his therapy.

Now, Will felt the moment Hannibal woke up, his body tensing before he inhaled and melted immediately into Will’s embrace. It was Will’s favorite part of the day, watching Hannibal Lecter fall into his arms with a happy sigh.

“Good morning, Will.” Hannibal’s voice was rough and thick, but utterly content.

Will pressed a kiss to the small patch of skin behind Hannibal’s ear, scraping his teeth along it when the cannibal shivered. “Hi.”

Hannibal stretched, rubbing his ass teasingly against Will’s groin. “Ready to start the day?”

“In a minute.” Will’s hands began to wander, one rising high to rub over Hannibal’s nipples and pluck at his chest hair, while the other sank low, testing the heavy weight of Hannibal’s cock as it filled. He worked the foreskin with his thumb, small circles that earned him tiny noises in the back of Hannibal’s throat. “Think you can take me again?”

Hannibal nodded. Typically, it wouldn’t even be a question, but lately, Will had become obsessive in his need for Hannibal. _Insatiable_ , Hannibal had called him with a smile, but there was more to it. Will had never coveted another person as he did Hannibal — the doctor’s time, attention, body — there was an unrelenting desire to capture it over and over again. To carve into Hannibal, shape the man as Will had been shaped, core into him until they were perfectly conjoined and could never be separated.

It was their Honeymoon period, Will knew. That time in relationships when being apart is unfathomable and constant claiming and fucking each other seemed a quintessential need. Funny, he’d never felt that way before, even on his honeymoon.

Will brushed his fingers against Hannibal’s lips, groaning when they were sucked and licked. Once they were sopping, Will dragged them from Hannibal’s jagged mouth, trailing wet fingers over heated skin. He pressed his hand into the cleft of Hannibal’s ass, a wet drag until his fingers caught on Hannibal’s hole, still a bit loose from the night before.

“You’re getting used to me,” Will whispered, teeth grazing along Hannibal’s shoulder as his fingers sank in.

“You’ve changed me,” Hannibal groaned, rolling his hips back onto Will’s hand. The stretch must have burned; they had lube right beside them, but Will never liked it the easy way and Hannibal was delighted in his physical demands. Hannibal shoved back hard, driving Will’s fingers deeper. “Do you feel it, Will? You’re still inside me, your mark.”

Will bit harder into Hannibal’s flesh, the idea of stroking into his tacky release making his cock twitch. They’d fallen asleep last night, sticky and exhausted, too tired to do anything but exchange loosening smiles as sleep took them. The thought drove Will’s hand harder into Hannibal’s body, fingers stretching and flexing, demanding entrance. He drew them along Hannibal’s prostate. “Is that what you want? Me inside you? Full of me?”

“Yes, please Will,” Hannibal was panting, rubbing his cock against Will’s open hand, desperate and needy in a way he usually never allowed himself to be seen. Will let a nail catch Hannibal’s foreskin, just to feel him quake and moan.

“Lube.” Will couldn’t keep himself from rutting into the small of Hannibal’s back as he worked his cannibal open. “Hannibal, now.”

“No.” Hannibal was breathless, his body trembling finely in Will’s hands. It was a wonder the doctor never shattered to pieces, he always felt so delicate as Will took him apart.

“You’re too dry, Hannibal, get the lube.” His beautiful monster merely snarled at him, hands clutching Will to his back, rubbing insistently. Will could feel Hannibal’s need, the wants so great they nearly overtook his own. It was monstrous to want someone as much as they did; absolutely terrifying. Will had never been so happy.

With a growl, Will shoved Hannibal forward, yanking his hands free. When Hannibal made a noise and moved to protest, Will grabbed the doctor by the hair and shoved his face into the pillow. “You only want me? You’ll get me. Stay fucking still.”

Hannibal made a broken noise, muffled by the pillow, Will scratched down his back, marveling at how the skin seemed to seek his nails. When his hands reached Hannibal’s ass, he spread the man wide, bearing his red used hole. Will licked a long stripe along it, tasting himself as well as Hannibal. He spat into Hannibal’s hole, using his tongue to ease into him as much as possible.

Will could feel Hannibal’s hands, grabbing sightlessly at Will’s hair, trying to haul the man up. Will let himself be pulled, covering Hannibal’s back and slotting his cock against Hannibal’s opening.

It burned when he pushed in, all heat and friction as he claimed Hannibal in a slow thrust. Fucking Hannibal always felt like being bathed in fire — consuming heat, burning away anything that wasn’t the two of them. “Still so fucking tight for me, darlin’.”

Hannibal groaned, trying to push up on his knees to take Will further. Will tightened his grip to keep his monster down. “Ah ah ah, you wanted just me, you’ll have just me. Open up those legs some more and let me do the work.”

Will smiled when Hannibal opened up to him, it was amazing how well Hannibal listened when they were in bed. Changing his angle to thrust deeper, Will shifted to hold Hannibal’s hips, rocking them so the doctor’s cock could drag along their sheets. The new movements had Hannibal keening beneath him, Will loved watching those strong back muscles tense and release as Will drove him toward the edge.

Feeling his own release building, Will leaned forward to rasp into Hannibal’s ear. “You love this, don’t you Hannibal? You love the burn, knowing you’ll feel my cock for hours. Would you like it if I tore you? If I drove into the blood, ripped into you until you were scarred, marked you with something you couldn’t wash away in the shower?”

Hannibal bucked, hands clawing frantically at their sheets. He clenched so hard around Will, the empath saw stars. “Oh you love that, don’t you? I’ll fuck you bloody and make you clean my cock with your mouth.”

Hannibal came with a faint cry, body shivering as it spasmed around Will. The empath’s vision went white, he dug his nails into Hannibal’s back and howled his release before collapsing. He shifted, not yet ready to let his softening dick slip from Hannibal’s body, rubbing his slick lips at the base of Hannibal’s skull as he panted.

“I love you,” Will gasped. He’d been planning to say it for weeks but now he couldn’t seem to stop himself. “I…I never knew…I understand now. I know why you did what you did, how awful it was to feel this and be denied.”

“Will,” Hannibal’s mouth was open, breath heavy against the pillow. “Stay. Please, stay.”

“Always.” Will hooked his arms around Hannibal’s chest, letting their racing heartbeats sync.

* * *

Breakfast was late. It was late most mornings since Will couldn’t seem to let Hannibal out of bed before 10. Today, Hannibal baked them blackberry mint scones, settling behind Will on their patio so he could nibble Will’s ears while Will nibbled the scones.

“You keep that up, I’ll never get out of here,” Will smiled as he moved his head, just to feel Hannibal bite harder at the shell of his right ear.

“A tragedy.”

“It will be if I don’t get a compressor for the fridge.” Will let Hannibal draw him back. “You won’t be so frisky when the damn thing dies and all your smelly cheeses rot and turn — do smelly cheeses smell better when they rot?”

“You’re ridiculous.” Hannibal nipped into Will’s neck but released him. The doctor grabbed a scone and settled back on the chair, giving Will room to breathe. “Though, I do have a leg curing in there with a new salt blend. I’d hate to lose it.”

“Uh-huh, I see how it is. You only want me for my repair skills.”

“And your body,” Hannibal said, picking up the local paper to browse headlines. Will smacked it just to watch Hannibal frown before getting up to change.

* * *

The drive into Montevideo was peaceful along the coastal highway. Will found himself missing Hannibal at his side, however, and laughed that a 40-minute drive had him moping like a teenager.

Will searched the Cordón district for parking near the repair shop, before settling on a spot a few blocks from the store. He used to hate busy streets and throngs of people, but the downtown crowds didn’t bother him anymore. He let himself be carried on waves of humanity; people were so much easier when you stopped trying to understand them.

He passed a flower shop and paused, biting his lip as he stared at the blooms in the window. A silly idea poked in his head, he smiled and moved on to the repair shop.

The owner waved when Will walked in, greeting him in English. Will still had trouble with the Uruguay dialect of Spanish — the fusion of Italian words into the language seemed to trip him up every time. Hannibal, of course, thrived on the fusion, saying it was a beautiful marriage of both languages. Thankfully, the shopkeeper had taken pity on him three sentences into their stilted conversation and asked the nice American what he wanted in perfect English. Will had never been so grateful in his life.

“Mr. Crawford, good morning! I have your order ready.”

Will smiled. “Thank you, you’re a lifesaver. I don’t know how much longer our refrigerator would have lasted.”

The man nodded. “You’re sure you don’t need anyone to help you install it?”

Will shook his head. “It’s just a compressor, it’s an easy swap.”

Plus, Hannibal always perched himself in the corner when Will did repairs. Will would pretend he didn’t notice, lifting his shirt up to wipe sweat off his brow and flexing just shy of noticeably while he worked. If he played his cards right, Will would have a lap full of eager cannibal when the repair was done.

The shopkeeper rang up Will’s purchase and handed him the compressor box. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. Crawford?”

Will almost didn’t ask. It was so silly. “There’s a flower shop a few blocks over…are they, _uh_ , are they any good?”

“Mathías Flores?” Will nodded. The shopkeeper smiled. “They make very beautiful bouquets. They work on my wife every time.”

Will knew he was turning bright red. He smiled at his feet and mumbled his goodbye.

He had no intention of stopping at the flower shop, but he did. He walked in, still faintly flushed, and not sure if this was a good idea or not. The last time he’d bought a bouquet for anyone, it was Molly. He’d grabbed a sad little cellophane-wrapped bundle at a gas station on their last anniversary when he once again forgot until Wally reminded him.

This time…it would be intentional. Something thought out and hand-chosen — a gift just to make Hannibal’s smile go wide and crooked. He walked into the shop.

The gentleman inside helped Will choose a blood-red bouquet, filled with branches of flowering ceibo, dahlias, and Psychotria elata. It was suggestive, almost lurid, but Will could see Hannibal’s pleased expression as he paid. He wanted to hurry home, to present the flowers to Hannibal, and watch the play of surprise and joy on his face. He’d probably be dragged upstairs. They’d spend the afternoon in bed, Hannibal tracing a Psychotria elata over Will’s body because he couldn’t resist the symbolism. Will would have to work on the compressor tomorrow.

As the clerk wrapped his bouquet, Will idly took out his phone and began to browse. He had a text from Hannibal, suggesting they eat on the beach tonight and one email. A google alert for his name. Will frowned, clicking the link.

He recognized the TattleCrime banner immediately, his breath catching in his throat.

_MURDER BABY? MRS. WILL GRAHAM TRIES TO HIDE HER BABY BUMP OUTSIDE DOCTOR’S OFFICE_

Will’s ears started to ring. He stared at a photo of Molly in sunglasses with dyed brown hair, her belly splitting open her oversized coat. The next photos clearly showed her trying to hide from the camera as she fled an OBGYN office.

Will was moving before he understood what was happening. He had to get home, get to Hannibal. There was no way he hadn’t seen the story, Will just hoped he could get to Hannibal before something terrible happened — like his cannibal murdering forty people in a fit of pique. Historically, Hannibal had never reacted well to Will’s children. Will prayed he wasn’t too late to save the life he’d finally found in Uruguay.

The flowers wouldn’t matter now. Hannibal would see them as a consolation, not as a gesture of spontaneous love. He raced out of the flower shop, leaving the bouquet and the confused clerk behind him.


	2. Promises Kept

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal's reaction...or non-reaction, as it were.

The house was quiet when he opened the door, making Will uneasy as he stepped inside. It would be better, simpler if it was torn apart. If he could find Hannibal, holding a knife, and wrestle his monster to the ground. Will would press kisses into Hannibal’s snarling mouth, loving him until the beast settled.

Then, they could talk.

But there was no dramatic scene, no howls of anger or sounds of glass shattering — only a faint humming coming from the kitchen.

“Hannibal?”

“In the kitchen,” Hannibal called out. “I’m sorry but I can’t come to greet you.”

Will had a vision of a different kitchen, in a different life. He could hear Abigail’s soft sniffling and taste the salt from Hannibal’s tears as they fell on his face. But there was no blood on the floor of their new kitchen, just the strong scent of sea and fish.

Hannibal glanced over his shoulder, smiling widely as he scaled one of the groupers Will caught the day before. There was a wet snap as Hannibal severed the head, dropping it into a pot of spiced water on the stove. Will kept his eyes on the knife as he approached.

“Missed you,” Will muttered into Hannibal’s shoulder, pressing a kiss into the soft linen of the doctor’s shirt.

“You must have if you can stand to be near me as I scale fish.” The tease was light and Will frowned, trying to parse Hannibal’s mood. He didn’t seem upset. He seemed…just as Will had left him.

“What did you get up to all afternoon?” Will ventured, letting his chin rest on Hannibal’s shoulder as he watched the skilled hand separate flesh from bone.

“I took my swim, showered, started prep for the stew — nothing too exciting I fear.” Hannibal turned to study Will. “How was your adventure in the city?”

“Fine. Got the compressor.”

Hannibal hummed, still watching Will. The empath smiled, deciding a form of the truth was better than a lie. “I just really missed you. I rushed back so I could be with you.”

Hannibal turned, knife in hand, and leaned forward, catching Will’s mouth in a slow kiss. When they pulled apart, Hannibal smiled. “I missed you as well, my darling. Why don’t you fix our refrigerator and then I can think of a way to reward you?”

Will laughed, stealing another kiss before turning to gather his tools.

* * *

The afternoon progressed idyllically, which should have been a warning. But Hannibal Lecter was a damn good distraction when he wanted to be.

The doctor finished the fish stew prep just as Will finished installing the compressor. Hannibal had casually mentioned he needed a shower, trailing a hand along a spot of grease on Will’s forearm. They spent a good 45 minutes wasting water in the shower, Will spilling down Hannibal’s throat and Hannibal easing into Will, peppering sloppy kisses on his shoulders.

They laid in bed, damp and grinning, content to just trace soft fingers over scars and whisper about their plans.

Hannibal never reached for his phone. Will didn’t even see the tablet that usually sat on the nightstand. When Will suggested they listen to the news, Hannibal agreed but started nibbling on his ears until Will growled and pounced on him.

Now, as Hannibal milled about the kitchen, Will realized he’d been carefully distracted all day. The fear rushed back into his gut, making his smile itch. This sort of non-reaction was worse than stabbing. Will didn’t know what to do. If he brought it up, forced the confrontation, it would probably end in blood. If he played along with this happy homemaker farce Hannibal was currently starring in, Will would likely wake up with his hands cuffed to the bed and Hannibal carving away pieces of him to stew into baby food that he would send to Molly.

“Hey, Hannibal?”

The doctor turned, those red eyes watching him intently. Will wanted to scream, to demand to speak with the monster.

“ _Uh_ …what wine with the food tonight?”

Hannibal cocked his head. “I think red, don’t you?”

Will nodded, his gut twisting as he retrieved two glasses.

* * *

Dinner was awkward. Will tripped over attempts to start conversations, he tried to bring Molly up once, but they’d worked so hard to earn this peace, he didn’t want to be the one to ruin it. So they sat, eating delicious fish stew and watching the sun set in silence, both leaning on each other, neither ready to talk.

Maybe Hannibal knew. Maybe Will’s monster understood that Will had chosen his new family, chosen the life he wanted with Hannibal. Maybe there wasn’t any need to worry. He guzzled the rest of his wine and tried to believe that.

After dinner, Will had grabbed Hannibal and kissed him fiercely, trying to shove all his love and devotion into Hannibal.

“Go upstairs,” Will whispered. “Get ready for me.”

“The dishes-”

“I’ll take care of the dishes.” Will sucked lazily under Hannibal’s jaw. “And then I’ll take care of you. Ok?”

“I’d like to think I rank higher than the dishes,” Hannibal murmured, but he made his way upstairs without any further fuss.

Will brought the dishes into the kitchen and began to scrub. He found a sort of meditative pleasure in washing up. It was rare to be able to order Hannibal’s chaos, and Will relished the idea that his meticulous cleaning would be up to the doctor’s standards.

As he washed the remnants of tempranillo out of delicate crystal glasses, Will thought about Molly again. It occurred to him that he could just kill her, remove her from their life, and hopefully reset the world. It would be dangerous — Lounds would be all over the story of course. Walter would be sent to live with Molly’s sister in Michigan, probably, not the worst life, but far from the life he’d promised the boy when he married Molly.

Will had been looking for a woman with a child, he could admit that to himself now. When he saw the damage on Molly, the cracks in her smile when she mentioned her dead husband, the tentative way she brought up Walter, it had been perfect. He’d wanted the life that Hannibal had offered him, the ready-made family. And when Hannibal took it away, Will wanted it more — simply to punish Hannibal with the knowledge. He’d kept in touch with Alana just to be sure Hannibal would hear about his wedding, about his sweet wife and new stepson.

It had hurt when Hannibal hadn’t broken out of BSHCI. Will had spent his honeymoon searching faces in the crowd and smiling faintly as he took Molly and Walter fishing in The Keys. But Hannibal never came, and Will started to worry that he’d be stuck in the role he gave himself for the rest of his life. When he closed his eyes, he saw Hannibal, trapped in his cage, while Will lay trapped in one of his own making.

He’d considered killing Alana as a peace offering, he’d looked at a few victims that would match with her in a profile. If he was careful, Jack would see the pattern and bring him in. He’d insist on needing Hannibal’s help to see the killer, then offer Alana as a moment of reconciliation and consummation. He’d driven down to Boston a few times to get the routine of the first victim, telling Molly he was fishing.

But Dolarhyde made his plans unnecessary.

Instead of killing the first woman to come between them, Hannibal and Will slew a dragon. It was more fitting, a beautiful display of their collective power. Perhaps Will was wrong, he had underestimated Hannibal before, what if he was doing it again? Hannibal would know they could never be separated, they were conjoined. And a fluke of biology and an ex-wife was certainly not enough to tear them apart.

Will found himself smiling as he took out the garbage. He was finally the husband he wanted to be, and Hannibal was —

He nearly dropped the garbage when he peered into the trashcan. Hannibal’s tablet lay at the top of the can, smashed into a thousand pieces. Will could see it so clearly in his mind: Hannibal, still in his robe, waving goodbye to Will and then picking up his tablet to browse headlines. He’d go to TattleCrime, Freddie Lounds’ vulgarity always amused him. The headline would appear and Hannibal would still for a moment before carefully reading the story. Once every word, every image was committed to memory, Hannibal would stand and smash his tablet to bits, snarling like a wounded beast.

It wasn’t the outburst that frightened Will. It was the calm demeanor that followed.

Will tossed the garbage in the can and ran to their bedroom.

* * *

Hannibal was sprawled naked on their bed, left hand slick as he sank three fingers into himself. Will stopped short at the sight, his husband’s beauty would always take his breath away.

“I was beginning to lose hope,” Hannibal’s eyes glittered in the low light, he arched his back as he fucked into himself again. Will closed his eyes, they really shouldn’t be doing this with so much left unsaid between them.

Hannibal made a noise — _the_ noise — the low short moan he only made when his prostate was brushed. Fuck it.

Will pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it aside. “You look like you’re doing alright.”

“True, but I could be doing better,” Hannibal panted. “Is something wrong, Will? You look out of sorts.”

Will fumbled with his pants, shucking them quickly and hopping on the bed. He should stop this. He should sit there and have an adult conversation with Hannibal about what’s happening. Will was already so hard, his mouth watering as he saw Hannibal’s cock leak pre-come on his thigh. He could do this. He could have Hannibal and make it so good for him, so beautiful, that his cannibal would know without a shadow of a doubt that Will was his.

Crawling up Hannibal’s legs, Will paused to suck soft kisses to the side of Hannibal’s knees and the soft splayed flesh of his inner thighs. His monster was so warm, wet, and writhing for him, Will was dizzy with it.

“Look at you,” Will murmured. “Look how wet you are for me, darlin’.”

Dipping forward, Will took the head of Hannibal’s cock in his mouth, sucking gently at the foreskin before swirling his tongue around the head. Hannibal groaned, his body arching as Will sank down, bringing the doctor’s cock to the back of his throat.

Hands tangled in Will’s hair, holding him steady as Hannibal thrust deeper. Will let his throat open, taking Hannibal in as he listened to the man moan. Will pulled back to tongue the head of Hannibal’s cock, holding eye contact as he lapped delicately at the leaking slit.

“Will.” More a breath than a word, Hannibal tugged at Will’s hair, trying to bring the empath closer. Will followed. He always followed where Hannibal lead.

Will smeared messy kisses along Hannibal’s soft belly before nuzzling into his chest hair. When he finally reached Hannibal’s panting mouth, he kissed the corner, smiling. “You wanted to see me?”

“Please, Will.” The tone always broke Will’s heart. As if he’d ever deny Hannibal anything again. Will sealed their mouths together in a languid kiss.

“Anything, Hannibal, anything.”

“Take me.”

Will grinned, stealing another kiss. He lined himself up with Hannibal’s slick hole and pressed in, hissing at the slide and the heat. “Fucking god.”

Hannibal rolled his hips, urging Will to move. Will got his knees under him, fitted his hands to Hannibal’s hips, and began to thrust — slow, steady rolls that brought him deep. Hannibal’s hands fell to Will’s, pressing his fingers harder into his flesh.

“Fuck, nothing feels like you,” Will rasped, shifting his angle until Hannibal started making the noise, his body stiffening in pleasure every time Will nailed his prostate. “Christ, darlin.”

Will pitched forward, mouth seeking. Hannibal reared up, capturing his lips in a sloppy kiss.

“I love you,” Will whispered. He started chanting the words, pouring them into Hannibal’s mouth as he picked up the pace. Hannibal breathed them in, greedy as he moaned for more.

“W-Will, I’m close,” Hannibal gasped. Will nodded shakily, pulling away to thrust harder. He fisted Hannibal’s leaking cock, pumping it a few times before his monster howled, coming all over Will’s fingers and his soft stomach.

Will brought his hand to his mouth, licking the release as he watched Hannibal shudder through the pleasure. With shaking hands, Hannibal reached for Will, bringing him flush against Hannibal’s solid body. Will’s thrusts became erratic, his whole body humming like a live wire as Hannibal wound his arms around Will’s shoulders.

“Come for me, darling boy,” Hannibal whispered. “Fill me up.”

Will came with a sob, his body running hot and cold as he shoved into Hannibal’s body. He collapsed on Hannibal, letting the doctor take his weight and run soft hands along Will’s back, murmuring in seven different languages, but all the words had the same meaning.

They didn’t pull apart. Hannibal merely shifted them to the side, slotting them together on their sides so they could rub noses and seek soft kisses. Will dug his nails into Hannibal’s hip, drawing him forward, desperate to keep them as close as possible.

“You know that, right? How much I love you?” Will couldn’t meet Hannibal’s eyes, content to cling to him.

“Why would I doubt it?”

Will took a breath. The air between them felt fragile, liable to shatter. “I saw your tablet in the trashcan.”

Hannibal’s languid body began to stiffen. Will gripped harder. “It fell.”

“It looked smashed,” Will pushed gently.

“That is often a result of falling, as your shoulder and my knee can attest.”

Will looked up, studying those beautiful bloody eyes he loved so. “Do you want to tell me something?”

Hannibal’s head cocked, his eyes sharp. “Do you?”

“I think you know. And I think your tablet served as proxy for my head.”

“Since you’ve apparently already worked out what I do and don’t know as well as what I do or don’t feel, I don’t see any reason to continue this-”

Will brought his hand to Hannibal’s cheek, marveling for the thousandth time how perfectly that strong jaw slotted into the palm of his hand.

“We don’t need to talk about it. We don’t need to do anything about it. It happened, like so many other mistakes we’ve made,” Will drew Hannibal into a kiss, his heart clenching when his cannibal came to him with no resistance. “I guess…I just want to be sure you knew. That you never doubt I want this. I want us to stay like this forever. I need to know you understand that.”

Hannibal sighed, his nose tracing over the bridge of Will’s. “I will do everything in my power to keep us this way. I promise you.”

“You always keep your promises.” Will could see it now. Molly would have to die. He felt guilty for that, for dragging her into a game she didn’t know she was playing. His stomach soured at the thought. It was terrible, but he wouldn’t give up Hannibal…not again, not over this.

“I do.” Will pulled Hannibal closer, licking the salt from his neck as he listened to his monster’s heart race in the dark.

* * *

They didn’t talk about it.

Two months blew by in utter bliss. They made love, they made dinner, and occasionally they’d dance in the living room to old jazz songs Will remembered his father listening to. Will didn’t check TattleCrime, he didn’t want to know. Hannibal’s new tablet remained intact, so Will figured there was no news anyway.

They were happy, even if Will still worried that a Hannibal-shaped shoe had yet to drop. He was working hard to make sure Hannibal forgot about Molly Foster. But what scared Will was the fact that Hannibal was working just as hard to make sure Will didn’t think about her either.

So, Will stuck close. Probably too close, if he was honest, but Will wanted to be there when Hannibal broke. He wanted to kiss his monster’s cheeks and promise that they’d take care of it together. The last thing Will wanted was an emotional Hannibal running off to deal with it himself. They both knew what that got them — bloodshed and likely capture.

That was why, as Hannibal made his protein scramble, Will was hooked over his shoulder, nosing at his neck and smiling at Hannibal’s amused noises.

“If you’re going to hang there like a parrot, I’ll start feeding you crackers.”

Will snorted, pressing a kiss to Hannibal’s neck. “You seem to hate it.”

Hannibal shifted his neck, offering Will more skin to kiss. “I do. Terrible business.”

Will watched as Hannibal added swirls of spices, the eggs taking color and transforming into custardy curds. He stumbled back when Hannibal turned.

“Will you watch the eggs for me?” He offered Will the spoon.

“What?”

“The eggs.” Hannibal pressed the wooden spoon into Will’s hand, guiding him to the pan. “I’m entrusting you not to burn our breakfast. Is that wise?”

Something buzzed in the back of Will’s brain. “Where are you going?”

Hannibal smiled, the loose open expression that made him look a little goofy. Will immediately relaxed under the weight of it. “I’m going to the restroom. Would you like any further details?”

Will looked at Hannibal, barefoot in his robe and sleep pants. He hadn’t even bothered with a shirt this morning. Will should drag him back to bed when they finished breakfast. He waggled his eyebrows at the doctor. “Hmmmm, I don’t think we’re that kinky yet, Dr. Lecter.”

Hannibal winked, turning with a flourish of his robe as he walked to the downstairs bathroom.

Will turned to the eggs, stirring so the curds formed little pillows of cooked eggs, as Hannibal had taught him. He started humming a Count Basie tune, wondering if they should go swimming or venture to Museo de la Historia del Arte — Hannibal had been talking about the Maya-Guatemalan textiles exhibit.

“Hannibal? I think the eggs are-” He heard the car motor before he could finish the sentence. The wooden spoon clattered to the ground as Will ran to the bathroom. The window was open, their car was gone. Will ran barefoot down their driveway, hoping to at least see which way Hannibal turned.

But Hannibal was gone, and he had all the head start he needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Next Up:**  
>  Looks like Will's heading for a reunion with his ex. What will he find when he tracks down his wife and new child?


	3. Baby Makes Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will meets his child...and finds his family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet again, I'm behind on responding. I cherish every comment, so keep them coming I promise I'll reply this week! 
> 
> Thank you so much for going with me on this nutty story idea!

It was embarrassingly easy to track down Molly from the photos on TattleCrime. After 30 minutes of examining the backgrounds of the six photos, Will saw the train station. Molly had settled in St. Albans, she’d always loved the maple festival there.

The next bit took more doing. Molly wouldn’t have moved to the city, she’d want some land, some privacy. It was one of the things he had liked most about her. Will scoured real estate records online until he found a purchase made in Susan Kyle’s name. Having her sister buy the house for her was smart, but she must have known Will would recognize the name if he went looking.

Maybe she thought he’d never look for her.

She was right, he wasn’t looking for her. He was looking for fucking Hannibal.

Will sighed, stretching his neck as he reviewed the file he made. The plane would land in Plattsburg in an hour. He’d have to rent a car and pray Jack and the FBI weren’t wouldn’t flag his new ID. Running around Uruguay as Jonathan “Jack” Crawford was one thing, but even Jack wasn’t dense enough to miss his own name if he was looking for it. He’d just have to chance it, hope the FBI had given up once they were declared dead.

The drive to St. Albans was pretty, fall leaves painting the highway fiery colors as he crossed the border into Vermont. He thought of Hannibal’s sketches. He’d just started using pastels in the last month, capturing maroon bellied parakeets and blue tufted star throats that visited the Sarandí Colorado coffee plants lining their patio. When this was over, maybe he and Hannibal could take a drive, find a little bed and breakfast where Hannibal could sketch and Will could fish for the last of the fall trout.

“Goddamn it, you asshole, we could have gone on vacation,” Will muttered as he pulled into Tim’s Place. He’d been chasing Hannibal for three days straight, he needed a cup of coffee and some greasy fried eggs.

He flirted a little with his waitress, a sweet-faced young thing probably saving up for college. A few smiles and a wink earned him all the intel he needed to start his surveillance. Hannibal might have had a point about using charm to get what you want. Anne-Marie told him where he could grab camping supplies, how to find the dirt road that lead to the cabins on Lake Champlain, and that no funny-talking fussy Europeans had been in recently.

Will tipped her and headed to the local REI — he’d need a cold-weather sleeping bag and a tent.

* * *

Will picked his phone up off the solar charger, running his hand through his hair. He dialed the number, listening to it ring and knowing there wouldn’t be an answer. The voicemail was an electronic voice, reciting the number. Will waited for the beep.

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re doing but I’ve been here three days,” Will complained. “I miss our bed. I miss tropical weather. You’ve even ruined camping food for me, I hope you’re fucking happy. It all tastes bland.”

Will sighed, stretching his back and listening to the joints pop. 

“I haven’t even seen a sign of you around the house. Where are you watching from? I’m at the tree line on the east side of the path to the lake, if you’d like to find me…Hannibal, please find me.”

Will ended the call. He threw an energy bar in his pocket and hung the rest of the freeze-dried food from a tree, just in case a bear decided to get cute. He had to hurry if he was going to make his perch before sunrise.

* * *

Will settled into a Hackberry tree that had been his perch for the last few days. He considered carving in the bark, but he thought of Dolarhyde and shuddered, putting his newly purchased linoleum knife away. Molly would be up soon anyway.

The light in Molly’s bedroom snapped on. He saw a shadow move back and forth in front of the window. Five minutes later the back door opened and 6 dogs poured out to sniff at the grass. Harley and Zoe were missing from the pack, Will wondered distantly what happened to them, if they’d gotten sick or simply let age take them. Will thought of the sweet little spaniel he saved from the shelter after the Jacobi massacre. He never got the chance to bring her to Molly. He hoped someone thought to take her. There was a dog he didn’t recognize, probably Randy. He’d never met the dog, but it was a well-behaved thing, running back to snuffle at Molly when she came outside cradling the baby.

Winston looked up, ears perked toward Will. He couldn’t have caught his scent, but Will ached to whistle, to drop to the ground and call for him. After a moment, Winston turned and ran back to the porch, settling by Molly’s feet.

Will watched Molly coo at the baby. It was so small to have blown up his life. Molly pulled a blue cap onto the baby’s head, maybe it was a boy. She snuggled it closer and Will tried to imagine himself in the little house with the family he’d found. He could see himself smiling and babbling at the baby, teaching it how to gently pet the dogs, when he was old enough, maybe he’d take Walter and his son fishing.

It was the life he’d always wanted. At least, the one he’d always said he wanted. He’d repeated it over and over — to Alana, to Hannibal, to himself — repeated it until he believed it. But when Hannibal had given him his freedom, invited him to find a family and live out his dream, it had been hollow. Will had spent three years feeling muzzled and longing to howl.

Walter crashed through the door, yelling and running through the yard as the dogs chased him. Will smiled, the dogs were happy, even Molly and Walter looked relaxed, the household really was better off without him. Eventually, Molly called out, bringing Walter and most of the dogs back to the porch. Walter sat beside her, looking slightly stiff as she handed him the baby.

The boy froze, utterly still as his sibling was placed in his arms. Molly laughed, the sound ringing out over the backyard. She gently adjusted Walter’s arm until he was cradling the baby properly. She ruffled his hair when he tentatively bounced the bundle in his arms.

It should have been sweet. Will should have been moved. But it just made him ache for Hannibal. He wanted his family back, and if he had to sacrifice this one to do it, he’d gladly pay the price.

Molly guided Walter inside with the dogs. They’d leave soon, Molly dropping Walter off at school and then heading to her job at the local Allstate, giving Will the afternoon to stew over where the fuck Hannibal was.

Will watched Molly through the large kitchen window. She was plating scrambled eggs. Will’s nose itched, he thought of the smell of fish stew and Hannibal’s cologne.

* * *

“I saw her making eggs this morning. She puts paprika in them. Thinks that’s fancy.” Will laughed, stirring his dehydrated beef stroganoff over the camping cooktop. “Don’t make that face, I know you’re curling your lip. I used to find it reassuring how unlike you she is. I used to choke down her hard, bland eggs — swallow the paprika and pretend it was my penance. If I ate enough shitty eggs with my shitty wife and shitty son in our shitty house, maybe I’d like it. Maybe I’d…finally prove you wrong.”

Will pulled the food off the cooktop, another tasteless meal in poor company.

“I ruined the eggs you left me with. By the time I stopped chasing your car and got back to the house they’d burned black. I ate them anyway. I could still taste you in them. I want…I know I can’t stop you. I don’t want to, that’s not why I’m here. I…I guess I just wanted you to know I’ll forgive you. Come home when you’re done.” Will ate a few more spoonfuls of food, gazing at the orange and pink water of the lake. “It’s a beautiful sunset tonight. Be romantic if my husband hadn’t fucking abandoned me.”

Will ended the call, rubbing his temples. He was done with this tantrum. If Hannibal wouldn’t come for the baby, he’d do it himself.

* * *

Drugging the dogs wasn’t difficult. Will broke into a vet’s office and snatched as much ketamine as he could.

Breaking into Molly’s house was simple enough after the vet’s office. The flimsy latch on the back door released with just a few jiggles of his camping knife. The dogs knew him, except for the mastiff mix, Randy, who began to growl.

“Hey, guys.” Will crouched down, holding out a hand. Buster and Ellie ran to him immediately, he smiled petting them. He was jostled by Max, who head-butted his shoulder for attention. Eventually, even Randy came over, ducking his head to receive some scratches behind the ear. Only Winston stood alone in the kitchen doorway, shifting on his paws and watching anxiously.

“Winston? Buddy! Don’t you recognize me?” Winston stayed where he was, whining softly. Will bit his lips, letting the hurt wash over him. He smiled softly. “Yeah, I guess I wouldn’t recognize me either.”

Reaching into a bag, Will pulled out some raw meatballs he bought at the market. He tossed one to each of the dogs. Winston didn’t eat the first two that landed at his feet, Buster happily scampering in to gobble them up. But the third, Winston caught, chewing it and wagging his tail slowly. 

Will looked around the tidy kitchen, it reminded him of their cabin. Wood walls, little family pictures — though none featuring Will anymore — and small little knickknacks that were either “too cute to resist” or “just like the one my parents had”. He smiled, thinking of Hannibal’s morbidly ostentatious style. Will felt uncomfortable in rooms that were barren of antlers and gilded skulls, now.

He opened the cupboard by the sink and found the cocoa. Molly would make the family cups of cocoa the second the weather got crisp. Will pulled a baggie of crushed ketamine from his pocket, mixing it in with the chocolate powder. Hopefully, no one would come back for seconds.

He stroked the dogs one last time, save for Winston who still kept his distance, and slipped out the door. He’d deal with them later.

* * *

When Molly let the dogs out around 10 pm for a final run in the backyard, she was pretty unsteady. Will watched her lurching silhouette, leaning heavily on the door. Will was closer to the house, hidden in the night only about 20 feet from the house. The dogs didn’t bark, they knew him. Each wagged their tails as they greeted him, hopeful for another treat.

Will pulled out another container of meatballs, but he had to be careful this time — he’d dosed them with the leftover ketamine according to each dog’s size — he had to ensure the right treat got to the right dog. Randy and Max eagerly gobbled the large meatballs Will fed them. Buster, Ellie, and Jack each sat to take theirs. Winston hesitated again. Will had to crouch down and wait. He remembered a cold night years ago, his taillights flashing as he held out an offering to a nervous dog with a frayed rope around his neck.

Winston took slow steps toward Will, sniffing cautiously at the meatball. Will smiled, staying still and keeping his posture non-threatening. After five minutes, Winston finally took the bait, gobbling the treat, and wagging his tail. Will reached to stroke the dog’s ears when a shrill whistle from the porch drew the dogs away from him. Molly was holding her head as she ushered the dogs in, her shadow swaying softly in the light.

Will watched the house, all lit up in the dark woods. It didn’t look like a beacon anymore, it looked like the bait light of an anglerfish — if he looked beyond the glow of the house, he could imagine teeth. He wondered when he became more comfortable in the shadows.

* * *

Will waited until 11. Molly’s bedroom was still illuminated, but judging by the way she was staggering and the lilting whistle, she had probably simply passed out before she could turn off the light.

The latch gave just as easily as it did in the afternoon. Will stepped softly into the kitchen, moonlight turning his shadow long and spindly as he made his way across it. He walked over to the dogs, passed out on the floor. Will paused at Winton’s form, running a hand over his ear. He had dreams of one day finding Winston and bringing him to Uruguay. Now, he knew Winston wouldn’t come with him, the dog would probably snarl and snap at Will, putting himself between the empath and the baby.

Will craned his head into the first bedroom to the left. Walter was face-down in his covers, drooling into his pillow. Will snapped his fingers once — no movement. He looked at the room. There were no more baseball posters, they’d all been replaced by posters of some angry looking band and a girl on a car. Will wondered if he’d ruined Walter’s love of baseball, or if the boy ever really had one. Perhaps it was just the first subject they’d found, something for the boy to grasp onto to appease the father Molly had brought home to him. Will noted all the angling equipment he’d bought the boy was gone from the room. Shame, the lake would be full of trout.

Will turned, making his way to Molly’s bedroom. The room was filled with pictures of her and Walter, even one of the two of them in the hospital, Molly’s arm in a sling. Will knew he should feel guilty about that, but the dragon had freed them both. There were a few pictures of Walter senior, smiling at baby Wally, twirling Molly around in her wedding gown. It was as if Will’s presence had been a nightmare — forgotten when they both woke up. And maybe it was.

Molly was passed out on the left side of the bed; her side. It was probably a holdover from her first marriage, instead of her time with him. Will remembered her slipping into the left side of the bed their first time together, and he gratefully fell onto the right — happy to fill in the domestic picture he’d wanted for so long. Her arm hung off the bed at an odd angle. She probably was reaching for the lamp.

Will watched her for a moment. She really was pretty, even with this new brown hair. He snapped over her face twice, patted her cheek softly. Molly’s face remained slack, her breathing even. Good enough.

Switching off the bedroom light, Will looked toward the large bedroom window. Beneath it, in a pool of moonlight was a crib. Will walked to it carefully, steps slow and hesitant, as if he were approaching a bomb. The little creature had blown up his life, so it seemed appropriate.

Inside the crib was…a baby. He was vaguely disappointed that the child has no hints of its monstrous father. There were no antlers on its bald little head, no fangs protruding from its little mouth. Will was struck by how ordinary the tiny creature was — chubby-cheeked with small hands curled over its stomach. Will leaned closer, fascinated that such a weak little thing had been enough to endanger his life with Hannibal. 

When Will’s shadow fell across the baby, it moved. Little eyes squinted open — familiar blue looking back at him. It made a soft mewling noise, reaching up to Will. Will smiled at it, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the linoleum knife.

“He has your ears, poor thing.”

Relief washed over Will. His eyes slipped closed as he waited for Hannibal to approach them. Will had missed Hannibal’s accent, his voice intensely. “I know someone who’s quite fond of my ears. Won’t stop biting them.”

An amused huff of breath curled around one earlobe. Will felt the heat of Hannibal now, warming his back, easing his tension. “Perhaps I’m trying to reduce their size.”

Will snorted. “How long have you been here?”

“I wanted to pay a visit to your child.” Hannibal stepped around Will, watching the baby with black eyes. “Awful thing when families are torn apart.”

Will thought of Abigail torn twice as she was ripped from Hobbs and then himself. “Families are torn apart every day.”

The baby gurgled, fully awake now and reaching for attention from the two men looming over him. “Did you suspect-”

“Of course I didn’t suspect,” Will hissed.

Hannibal curled his mouth into a small smile. He dangled his hand over the baby’s head, fingers wiggling like a spider. The baby burbled and grabbed for him. “You do know how babies are made, don’t you, Will?”

Will laughed at that, a broken sound that had no mirth to it. The baby flinched, mewling again. “I know how mine are made.”

“And how is that?”

Will thought of Margot, of whiskey breath and disinterested kisses. He thought of Molly’s sweet little breathy moans, and how distracting he used to find them. “Fucking a woman I don’t want while I think of you.”

Hannibal’s smile grew wide, teeth glinting in the moonlight. “You never cease to surprise me, Will.”

“Wasn’t that the point to all this?”

“What?”

“You wanted to see what I would do,” Will said, tilting his head when the baby began to fuss.

“Don’t I always?” Hannibal’s free hand slid down Will’s wrist, fingers circling around the knife’s handle with Will’s own. “Is that knife for me or your child, Will?”

“I hadn’t fully decided when I bought it.”

“Have you now?”

Will looked at Hannibal, raising their joined hands. He released the blade, letting it fall into Hannibal’s grip. Turning, Will reached out and picked up his son. The baby’s head fell back, still too small to support its weight. Will adjusted his hold, remembering how Molly had shown Walter to hold the thing. He peered into the baby’s face. It touched his chin, trying again to pull him near. “He has my nose, too.”

“He does.” Hannibal still held the blade aloft, playing with it as it glinted in the moonlight.

Will petted his son’s chest with his free hand, fingers tickling slightly at his chubby belly. He moved lower, pulling at the snaps on the base of the onesie until they gave. Bunching the soft material in his hand, Will bared the baby’s pale stomach, wriggling slightly in the cooler air. “Will he have my smile, Hannibal?”

Hannibal stopped fiddling with the blade, mouth twitching slightly at the corner. “Time will tell.”

“I’m not asking the time, I’m asking you.” The infant fussed, squirming in earnest to get out of Will’s grip. He held the baby tighter, presenting its weak spot to Hannibal.

“Would you forgive me one more, Will?”

“I’ll forgive you all three.”

Hannibal stepped forward, the knife arcing before the baby’s eyes. He laid the blade in the bassinette, under a blanket. With his hands-free, he reached out, gently taking the baby from Will and cradling him to his chest. Will was struck by how natural Hannibal looked holding his child, smiling blandly as he bounced the babbling infant in his arms — a lion batting a mouse between his paws. After a moment, Hannibal looked up, catching Will’s eye. “I think he favors his mother.”

Will watched as Hannibal pressed a kiss to the baby’s forehead before carefully swaddling the baby and laying it in the crib. Will knew he should feel relief, but he didn’t. He just wanted to go home.

“Do you want to say goodbye, Will?”

Will turned from the crib. “I never wanted to say hello.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because I knew it’s where I’d find you.” Will grabbed Hannibal’s hand, reeling the doctor to his chest. “Kill him or leave him be Hannibal, but I want us on the way home tonight.”

Hannibal lowered his head, scenting Will’s hair and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Don’t you even want to know his name?”

“No.”

“It’s stunningly appropriate.”

Will sighed. Clearly, there was one more act to Hannibal’s little drama that had yet to play out. “What’s his name? Francis? Hannibal? Chilton?”

“It’s Isaac.” Hannibal grinned.

Will rolled his eyes. “You decided to cast me as Abraham and yourself as God the moment you found out that little tidbit, didn’t you?” 

“God didn’t require a sacrifice, just the willingness to make one.”

Will narrowed his eyes at his smug monster, he was so beautiful. “If you think I’m worshiping you on Sundays-”

“Our form of idolatry requires worship on every day.” Hannibal stroked his hand along Will’s jaw, before finally pulling him into a kiss. Will drove into the kiss, twining his arms around Hannibal’s neck. When they pulled back, Hannibal sniffed and frowned. “I believe your son needs a change.”

“Absolutely not.”

Hannibal made a face. “Come now, Will, you’ve drugged the poor thing’s mother, we can’t leave him here. Surely one hour of fatherhood will be bearable.”

“An hour?”

“Babies this small usually have a late-night feed.”

Will rolled his eyes as Hannibal picked up Isaac, bearing the baby away from the moonlight to lie on the changing table.

* * *

Will pulled into the deserted parking lot of the Anchorage Inn. The drive had taken an hour, Will trailing after Hannibal’s rental car in his own. They had so much to talk about, but mostly Will wanted to sleep on a bed, with his monster in his arms. The rest they would figure out.

Hannibal waited for him outside of Room 4, smiling when Will immediately fell into his arms. “Couldn’t find a Ritz?”

“I believe this is what the criminal element calls _keeping a low profile_.” Hannibal murmured against Will’s neck.

Will laughed. “I can’t imagine you hiding away here for a week and a half.”

“I wasn’t. I checked in yesterday.” Hannibal opened the door. “Please, you must be exhausted.”

Will frowned at Hannibal. “If you weren’t here, where did you-”

A white and brown French spaniel nosed Will’s Hand.

“Hi, sweetheart!” Will dropped to his knees, rubbing the dog’s long ears. He paused, freezing when the dog licked his face, tail wagging wildly. He knew this dog. He’d taken it from –

“The dog…where did you…” He looked at Hannibal and it clicked. “This is the Jacobi’s dog.”

“Is it?”

“Where did you find her?”

Hannibal ushered them into the room. “Where did you leave her?”

“In a motel, when Francis came calling.”

Hannibal hummed. “I did not find her there.”

Will tugged at the dog’s collar, seeing an ID that read _Bella_.

“She was hiding behind the recliner in Uncle Jack’s living room. I felt it best I take her.”

Will froze. “Jack?”

“You haven’t checked the news recently, have you?”

“I was sleeping in a sack in the middle of fuckall Vermont, Hannibal. What did you do?”

Hannibal began undressing, pulling his sweater over his head and unbuttoning his shirt. He clicked his tongue and the dog left Will to settle on a little bed in the corner. “I’m afraid the FBI has been watching St. Albans since the article in TattleCrime appeared…until four days ago.”

Will stood pulling off his thermal and grinning. “When they discovered Jack Crawford’s body?”

Hannibal nodded, rolling his shoulders out of his shirt. Will yanked his undershirt over his head. He knew he needed a shower, but there’d be time for that later, he needed Hannibal more.

“Evidently you and I are on quite the spree — Uncle Jack, dear Bedelia, Freddie Lounds, three guards outside the Verger-Bloom estate, every single person who played a part in our incarceration.” Flicking open his belt buckle, Hannibal let his pants pool around his ankles. “I believe all their current resources are now devoted to investigating those crimes and offering protection to the Verger-Blooms.”

Will shoved out of his jeans, he was already embarrassingly hard. “You drew them away.”

Launching himself at Hannibal, Will pressed kisses to the doctor’s neck, palming Hannibal’s cock through his boxers. Hannibal groaned, grinding into Will’s touch. “Of course I did. The FBI isn’t part of our story here.”

Hannibal’s hands palmed Will’s ass, tugging his boxers down. Will hummed, pressing into the touch. They kissed frantically for a moment, Will felt starved for Hannibal, clawing at his monster’s furry chest and sucking at his lower lip. They pulled apart just in time to relieve each other of their underwear.

“I thought you were watching me from the trees all this time.” Will traced a soft hand along Hannibal’s jaw.

“I was, yesterday.” Hannibal settled on the bed holding out a hand. “You’re so fitful when you sleep alone.”

Will grabbed Hannibal’s hand, falling into his embrace. “Then don’t make me do it again.”

Hannibal peppered Will’s face with kisses, soft and seeking. Will straddled Hannibal, bracing his hands to Hannibal’s chest and pressing his monster into the mattress as he ground their cocks together. “I’ve missed you terribly, darling boy.”

“Prove it,” Will snarled. “I want to ache all the way home.”

Hannibal bared his teeth, thrusting up once before reaching for the nightstand drawer. Will grinned, rolling his hips as Hannibal found a packet of lube. He snatched the packet from Hannibal’s hands, smiling at the confusion furrowing Hannibal’s brow.

“You like to watch me so much, Dr. Lecter, surely you can watch me a little more.” Will leaned back, settling with his head at the foot of the bed. He splayed his legs, one on either side of Hannibal’s body, and slicked his fingers.

Hannibal sat up, eyes fixed on Will’s hand as he slid the first finger in. “Will, let me-”

“No, you sit there like a good boy and watch,” Will arched, moaning when he brushed at the edge of his prostate. “And when you can’t take anymore, you come get me.”

Hannibal licked his lips, pulling his legs up until he was kneeling between Will’s open body. He ran gentle fingers along the inside of Will’s thighs, watching how they fell open for him as Will sank a second finger inside himself. “You are the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.”

“Then don’t you ever _ah fuck_ don’t you ever leave me again.” Will gasped as he scissored his fingers.

“Never.” Hannibal was panting, his fingernails scraping along Will’s hips. One hand covered the hand between Will’s legs, pressing it deeper, guiding the strokes.

“U-Ah!” Will felt his cock jerk on his stomach. “Cheater.”

“When have either of us ever played fair?” Hannibal grinned, forcing his finger in next to Will’s. The empath keened, free hand snagging Hannibal’s hair and dragging him forward for a messy kiss. Hannibal’s finger found Will’s prostate and pressed hard, forcing the breath from Will’s lungs. He screamed, writhing beneath Hannibal. The doctor smiled. “I think that’s quite enough.”

Hannibal pulled his hand from Will’s body, grabbing the empath’s wrist and yanking it free. Will moaned, hole winking, and desperate to be filled. Hannibal pulled Will’s hand to his cock, grunting softly when Will slicked him. “Hannibal, darlin’ please.”

The doctor smiled, lining his cock up with Will’s hole and pushing in. Will watched as Hannibal’s eyes fluttered shut in pleasure for just a moment. He felt so full, burning with Hannibal inside him. Reaching a shaking hand up, Will stroked Hannibal’s cheek.

“My love,” Will whispered as Hannibal started to move. He hooked his legs over Hannibal’s hips encouraging Hannibal deeper. Hannibal turned his head to kiss Will’s palm, his hand angling Will’s hips a little higher. The new angle made Will’s spine snap tight, his skin prickling with pleasure. “ _FUCK_ , Jesus, right…right there.”

“My Will,” Hannibal growled, thrusting harder, his belly rubbing Will’s weeping cock.

“Yours,” Will panted, meeting Hannibal’s thrusts and keening. “Yours.”

Hannibal lowered himself, giving Will more toe-curling friction. Will’s hands scrambled on Hannibal’s back clawing as his monster took him to pieces. Hannibal snarled, pressing his teeth to Will’s neck. Will wailed as he came, spurting hot between them as his body spasmed.

Hannibal’s fingers tightened on Will’s hips as he fucked him through his orgasm. Will gasped the pleasure fissuring into pain. He let his legs fall open, whining quietly as Hannibal moved inside him. Softly, Will ran his hands to Hannibal’s ass, gripping his cheeks and driving Hannibal harder into his body.

“Fill me,” Will begged. “P-please, darlin’ I want to be dripping with you when we get on the plane.”

Hannibal groaned, his forehead dropping to press to Will’s. Will shifted, stroking a finger firmly over Hannibal’s hole. It was enough. Hannibal shuddered, thrusting deep one more time before coming.

Will moved a shaking leg to hook over Hannibal’s hip, keeping him in place. “Stay, just for a little bit.”

“We have several hours before our plane leaves, my love,” Hannibal whispered. “I’ll happily lie on top of you until then.”

Will craned his neck, looking at the sleeping dog in the corner. “Should we be insulted we didn’t disturb her?”

“After what she saw in Jack’s home, I don’t think much will bother her.”

Will grinned. “I can’t wait to see your design.”

Hannibal kissed him. Will breathed deep, letting Hannibal fill his lungs. He would be home soon with the family he’d always wanted.

* * *

Molly woke to the baby fussing in his bassinette. She squinted at the sunlight streaming in the window. “OK, OK, buddy, give me a minute.”

The alarm clock said 8:45 — how the hell had she slept through two alarms?

She sat up, head pounding. She felt slightly nauseated, like she had a hangover. She hadn’t had a drink in nearly a year…maybe she was getting the flu?

“God, I can’t be sick today.”

The baby screamed. Molly winced, forcing herself up on unsteady legs. She walked to the crib. “Hey handsome, I see one of us is ready to start the d-”

She paused when she saw Isaac chewing on something. She took it from his little hands — a stuffed dog of some sort. She didn’t remember buying it. She smiled softly.

“Did your brother get you a present? Did he? Should we got get him up for school?” She’d have to thank Wally for the toy, it was sweet. She’d also have to remind him not to leave toys in the crib, it was dangerous with a baby so young. Bending, Molly slipped her hands beneath Isaac, who she could swear was wearing a different onesie than the one she set him down in, and lifted him up. As her hand slid beneath his head, something sharp grazed her finger. She hissed, managing to keep her grip on Isaac. “Shit.”

Laying him against her shoulder, Molly frowned, her finger was bleeding. She looked Isaac over as he cooed at her — not a mark on him.

“What on earth is in your-” She flipped up the pillow in the crib and froze, staring blankly at a linoleum knife and a note addressed in beautiful calligraphy to _Ms. Molly Foster._

She moved Isaac away from the bassinette, laying him in the middle of her bed. She crept back to the bed, praying that she had been hallucinating. But the knife was there, and so was the note.

With shaking hands, she plucked the note from the bassinette, her blood staining a corner as she opened it.

> _Dear Ms. Foster,_
> 
> _Please look after our baby for us. He’s quite a handsome fellow, just like his father. We don’t plan on visiting often, but rest assured should you ever need anything for his education, we will happily provide it. Please contact the number below should you decide to collect your child support._
> 
> _I should note, however, that if this correspondence finds its way to TattleCrime of the FBI, we will revoke custody of dear little Isaac. Whether or not you will be breathing when that happens, I leave to your ex-husband to decide. You’ll find Isaac has been changed and fed, as I imagine the ketamine left you with quite a headache._
> 
> _Best,_
> 
> _H. Lecter_
> 
> _PS: If you don’t mind a little advice, I’d switch the boy to a dairy-free formula. He seems to be a bit lactose sensitive. Please consult with your normal pediatrician if you feel the need for a second opinion, of course._

Molly tore the note in half, then shredded it into fine confetti. Walking downstairs with Isaac, she called in sick. She would let Wally sleep a few hours, then take him to the gun range in Underhill. If her husband and that thing he left her for ever came back, they’d be ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...I have a head canon that I worked out with Ishxallxgood that Hanners 100% finds a way to contact Isaac, and eventually...When Isaac spends a semester abroad in Florence in college, guess who just so happens to be there to greet him? Don't worry, Hanners would be an excellent stepdad, even if he doesn't exactly tell Will why they had to move to Italy. 
> 
> **Next Up:**  
>  I have two options:  
> 1\. Will Graham starts having dreams post-fall that make him think he might not be as straight as he once thought.  
> 2\. Hannibal starts wearing reading glasses, and that does funny things to Will's libido. 
> 
> Do you have an opinion on what story you want? Let me know!

**Author's Note:**

> **As always, this story is complete and I'll post every Wednesday.**
> 
> **Next Up:**  
>  We get to see Hannibal's reaction. It's...about what you'd imagine.


End file.
